


I wanted you to be better

by thealphadog



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Daddy Issues, Fluff, Michelle Jones Deserves Better, Multi, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is a sympathetic boob, Swearing, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony's back on his bullshit, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-03-02 17:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphadog/pseuds/thealphadog
Summary: Tony had made the kid cry, and now he was paying for it.Or, Tony realises he's practically a dad, and needs to cry about it to an old friend.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony had fucked up. 

 

It was clear that he had, what with all the obvious moping and thinking poses he was doing in the compound kitchen, living room, lab. Even Vision had started shimmering through his walls to ask if he was OK. 

 

“We talked about this. Many times.” Vision would sigh, trying his best to look like a person, someone who wasn’t configured with JARVIS’s AI matrix; someone real. Then he’d grudgingly leave through Tony’s door, shutting it behind him, but gently. 

 

The kid was, well, _a kid_. And what had happened on the Staten Island ferry wasn’t something that Tony couldn’t deal with. He’d saved much worse, he’d dealt with so much more. But the kid _hadn’t._  

 

“Mr Stark- hey, what can I do, Mr Stark!”

 

“You’ve done enough.” Tony didn’t even recognise the voice coming from his mouth. It sounded all too familiar, all too- wrong. 

 

He’d sounded like Howard Stark. 

 

Watching Peter’s legs dangling from that building afterwards, his body convulsing slightly, his face sunken and low and just _not like Peter Parker_ \- he thought he might have landed right there and hugged the kid into oblivion. 

 

But he’d done the complete opposite. He’d gone all _dad_ on his ass, he’d _broke_ the kid from the inside out. 

 

“You’re a _fourteen year old kid_ -,”

 

“Fifteen.” Peter had replied, his face now unrecognisable behind his welling eyes and his red, blotchy cheeks. 

 

It was enough to leave Tony speechless; but what Tony had done was much worse. 

 

“That’s it- I need the suit back.” 

 

After all they’d been through. After Berlin, after watching the kid at all times through his suit, tracking him, making sure he was safe when his conscience was at its breaking point- just _wanting to be there for him._ It was all coming to an end with those seven words that had just left Stark’s mouth.

 

Peter’s eyes overflowed then, his nostrils flared and his cheeks squashed. Tony had never made a kid cry. He’d never been _this close_ to a crying child; yet now he was the perpetrator. 

 

He wanted so badly to yell at the kid, to tell him to get back to band practice or robotics lab, to live his damn life the way a fifteen year old should, to stay out of the realm of the Avengers and have a life worth facing each day without being afraid of what would be round the corner. 

 

But Peter spoke up first, his voice literally a coarse whisper, his eyes completely lost in a sea of his salty tears. 

 

“I’m nothing without the suit.”

 

And Tony had- erupted. 

 

“If you’re _nothing without the suit_ , then you s _houldn’t have it._ ”

 

Tony sat in the compound, his conscience so far from clean. The suit sat in a paper bag in front of him, just staring at him, almost scowling at what he’d just done to the kid. 

 

He rubbed his temples, trying not to think about the fight, but the words cut through his distracted thoughts-

 

“I just wanted- to be like you-,”

 

“And- _I wanted you to be better_.”

 

He could imagine the kid walking home, in that shitty ‘I survived my trip to NYC’ shirt and those gross baggy pyjamas. He could imagine Peter knocking on his apartment door, just to be met with an even more fuming Aunt May. 

 

She’d scream, she’d shout, she’d beg for Peter to tell her what the hell was going on. 

 

And he’d collapse. Saying something along the lines of “I lost the Stark Internship.” Because the kid would still hide the fact he was a damn superhero from his Aunt, after all she’d been through. 

 

Because that’s the kind of person Peter Parker was. 

 

For a moment, Tony thought he’d write a letter to the kid, pop it in an envelope and FedEx it to his apartment. Go all Steve Rogers on him, deliver his apology so well that the next time Tony should encounter the kid, it wouldn’t be so heartbreaking. 

 

But this wasn’t Civil War, this wasn’t Berlin. This was him and a kid, a kid that had looked up to him since before he’d got his stupid powers, a kid so kind, so damn smart, so loved- that it made Tony’s fifteen year old self jealous. 

 

All that Tony could do was go about his daily routine. 

 

All that Peter could do was dive directly into his studies, his friends; his prior life. 

 

Happy was still Peter’s point guy about everything, but he’d told Tony the kid had been uncharacteristically quiet over the past month. No notes, no texts, not even a hello occasionally, reminding Happy that he was still here. 

 

Tony sat mundanely in his lab, fiddling with a bunged up piece of an old suit. He dropped the hunk of iron on the floor and grabbed his phone-

 

_Anything on the kid?_

 

Happy replied immediately.

 

 _Nothing, boss._ _It’s a silent night all round._

 

It was almost killing him, knowing that the kid was out there without the one thing that he enjoyed the most, the one thing that he thought he was truly good at. _He’d made a kid cry._

 

God, it almost made him want to take away his own damn suit. 

 

Was Peter Parker really that important to Tony? Were his brown, baby eyes really that engrained in his head that he could literally imagine them welling up, he could imagine them when the kid smiled so wide, or when he was scared.

 

When he was terrified. 

 

He’d got the kid into all this- he’d made him join- he’d whisked him off to Berlin. 

 

And he’d acted like a shit after it all. “There’s a small, grey area there, and that’s where you operate.” 

 

Tony stared at the small, flip phone on his table. The one he’d got from Rogers, after everything. Was he really doing this, just because his conscience was so severely damaged by something that _he’d fucking done_?

 

Without hesitation, Tony opened the phone and went to the one phone number that was saved on the device.

 

And he clicked call. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Tony thought he knew what he was getting himself into. 

 

When he clicked that call button and Steve’s voice sounded from the other end, he thought he’d be able to keep it together, but he simply slammed the phone down as soon as Rogers had picked it up. 

 

He stood up and paced his lab, his hand pressed firmly against his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose. 

 

Then the little shitty flip phone buzzed.

 

And Tony ran to his desk so fast that it looked like he’d barge straight into the metal legs. His hands wrapped around the device and he flipped it open. “Cap.”

 

“Tony.” 

 

It was as simple as that, to begin with. It almost made Tony burst into tears, but that would be way more damage to his conscience, _too much_ damage for him to handle right now.

 

His ego was a fragile thing, a thick thing. And Tony didn’t want to lose every part of himself, every part that had built Stark Industries into the multi-billion dollar business it was today. 

 

So he laughed. 

 

Tony could imagine Steve’s face on the other end of the line, wherever the hell he was. He could imagine Steve’s straight mouth, square jaw, his arm stuffed in his pocket and the other holding an equally shitty flip phone to his ear. 

 

His friend. 

 

Tony breathed in, about to speak, when he remembered that day.

 

“Tony-,” Steve breathed heavily, his mouth bleeding, his jaw bruised. “He’s my friend.”

 

Bucky lay on the ground at Stark’s feet, his metal arm gone from his body, his eyes fluttered in and out of consciousness. 

 

“ _So was I_.” 

 

Stark shut his eyes, breaking his flashback up once more. He didn’t want to remember what it was like beating Steve to a pulp. He didn’t want to remember being hit over and over by Steve, either. 

 

Tony’s hand subconsciously trailed to his arc reactor. He’d had to reinforce the reactor core in all his suits now, after Cap’s shield sliced straight through it. It took him a day and a half to get home from Siberia afterwards, and all that was waiting for him back there was the blinking light of Thaddeus Ross on hold. 

 

Tony snapped back to reality, he could hear Steve’s steady breathing on the other end of the line. “How’re things? Trust they’re well, and Buck, too.”

 

“What’s this about, Tony?” Tony sighed, he didn’t want to offend Steve. He didn’t want to fight. Yet something inside of him had an inability to be sensitive, an inability to be compassionate. 

 

“I’m- having teenager troubles.”

 

“You’re- what?” 

 

Tony had no clue how he’d begin to explain this. Cap didn’t know who Spider-Man was, and that Spider-Man technically didn’t exist anymore, as of right now, thanks to Tony himself. 

 

He also didn’t know that Tony had recruited a fifteen year old to fight in Berlin. 

 

“My recruit-,”

 

“Spider-Man,” Steve said, his voice steady. 

 

“I had to… do something harsh.”

 

“Harsh how?”

 

Steve had always been a good listener. Tony hadn’t noticed that until he had no one left to listen to him, anymore. 

 

Tony laughed awkwardly down the phone, but Steve showed no signs of needing or wanting to hang up this conversation. They were worlds apart right now, yet they were _talking_. They were actually having a conversation, and not one about Berlin, or the accords.

 

But Tony was about to make a fool of himself again. He had to tell Steve; he needed this off his chest-

 

“He’s a teenager, a _kid_. And I gave him a million dollar suit, a _dangerous suit_ , and let him run off around Queens with it.

 

“I brought him to Berlin, I made him _fight with me_ against some of the most dangerous people on the globe, without you guys knowing he was literally a toddler, without his damn Aunt knowing he was in harms way-,”

 

“What did you _do_ , Tony?” Steve ushered him, and he gulped.

 

“I took the suit away. I gave him everything he wanted, and then I took it all away.” 

 

-

 

Peter placed the final piece on their lego sculpture; Emperor Palpatine. He remembered back to the time Ned first got the 3803 piece set, and how he'd blown him off. Back then, it was all about the 'Stark Internship', it was all about being Spider-Man; saving the world; helping old ladies cross the street; getting bought churros. He'd disregarded his friends the whole time.

 

Ned smiled as he placed the last piece, he smiled at his _friend_. Despite everything - losing the suit, still being losers - Peter had Ned and Ned had Peter. It would all turn out OK. 

 

Even if Peter stayed up at night because he was afraid someone was getting hurt. Even he felt entirely to blame for _not being there_ to stop someone, anyone, from doing wrong. 

 

He had these powers. Not using them was as bad as using them for something bad. He’d told Tony that the first time he’d come to his apartment, practically begging him to come to Berlin. 

 

May was furious, but she was also terrified. As far as guardians went, she was the best that Peter could have hoped for. After all that had happened; his parents; Uncle Ben- he knew he needed to be there more for her.

 

Being without the suit, it gave Peter more time with his aunt.

 

“So, where’s Mr Stark now?”

 

Ned looked at Peter with big eyes. Peter shrugged.

 

“Probably in the compound, or in Mumbai, or something.”

 

“But, your suit-,”

 

“I’m not getting it back, Ned.” Ned looked down suddenly, fiddling with his fingers. Peter lay back onto his bed, his eyes tracing the cracks in his ceiling. “I’m not getting it back.”

 

Spider-Man was nothing more than a myth. Just some guy on YouTube that would lose fame in two or three days, tops. In a world with the Avengers, a little guy like Spider-Man would remain unnoticed; it had been months since Berlin; people would have forgotten about him by now.

 

Even after Washington.

 

Even after the Staten Island ferry.

 

All the news channels were awash with “Iron-Man” this and “Captain America” that. He was invisible. 

 

He was no more. 

 

Spider-Man had dug his own grave; and every morning, when Peter got up, he looked in his mirror; 

 

All he saw staring back at him was a lousy kid. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okokokok WHAT. I posted this about three hours ago, like the start of this /one shot/ (yeah, it's not a one shot anymore), and it just BLEW UP. I'm so amazed???? Like im seriously speechless. 
> 
> I guess everyone just loves dad Tony and kid Peter as much as I bloody do.


	3. Chapter 3

“You can’t blame yourself, Tony. The accords- they messed with all of our heads-,”

 

“But the kid,” Tony sat on the lab floor, his back resting against one of his old suits. He couldn’t recall how long he’d been on the phone with Steve for, a few hours, maybe? “I took away what he loved-,”

 

“ _No, you didn’t,_ ” Cap almost yelled it down the phone. “He had those powers long before you came along with the suit. He _still_ has those powers.” Tony blinked a few times. 

 

It didn’t stop the ache all over his body at the fact he’d broken Peter. The look on his face, the immense sadness he’d caused the kid, probably the psychological damage he’d also caused the kid, alongside all the other shit Tony had made Peter do, or somewhat promised him over the past few months. He’d made him believe he was an Avenger of some kind- he’d given him _hope._

 

To give a kid hope and then take it away- it’s worse than never giving the kid hope in the first place.

 

“It doesn’t excuse my behaviour. Towards him; towards everyone.” 

 

The real conversation was happening now. It had taken this long for the two of them to actually talk about the accords and what happened in the team. Every time Tony thought about Berlin now, the pale faces of his teammates locked up in The Raft flashed before his eyes.

 

“Towards you, Cap.”

 

Steve scoffed on the other end of the line.

 

“We all fucked up. Zemo came between us.” 

 

“I came between us. It’s just- Bucky-,”

 

“It’s OK,” Steve cut him off. Bucky; James Buchanan Barnes; Steve Rogers best friend. 

 

If it had been a few months ago, Tony would have called him the Winter Soldier. He would have called him a murderer, a killer. 

 

But the man who’d killed his parents; it wasn’t Bucky. 

 

Tony knew that, now. 

 

“He’s back in the ice, just so you know. It was his decision. Until we can find out a way to take out all that HYDRA put in him, he didn’t want to be a threat, to anyone.” 

 

Tony was the one to scoff now. He remembered how he’d fought with every intent to kill him, to rip his soul out of his very body. 

 

“Well, I feel like a massive dick right now.” The two men found themselves laughing with each other, and pretty soon those laughs hit their stomachs with a nice feeling. 

 

But it wasn’t until Steve and Tony had said their goodbyes that Tony realised his face was drowning in tears.

 

-

 

Peter strolled through the halls, his feet practically dragging behind him. The hall pass was hanging from his slumped arms. His hair was flat and unkempt, his face was pale, his eyes nothing more than black bags; they’d lost their warmth. 

 

It was so easy to think that he’d be OK, that he’d get over not having the suit. He was still Spider-Man, right?

 

“Not without the suit-,” Peter whispered to himself.

 

“What?” Liz said, from a few feet away. She strolled up to him, his face now wide and full of embarrassment. Of course she had to be here right now, of course she had to see him like a wimp, a baby, a weakling. “Are- you OK, Peter?” As she got closer to him her eyebrows furrowed and her smile turned into a frown. 

 

Peter tried his best to perk up. “Me? Oh, yeah, I’m all good, really.” Liz’s expression didn’t change. “My neighbour- got a dog. It won’t stop barking. I just- didn’t sleep that well last night. Or- this entire week.” He put on his best smile, but it oddly hurt his face. 

 

The two of them stood by Midtown’s trophy cabinet, their backs to the windows peering out over the quad. Peter read the names of Midtown’s past football players; they pierced into his eyeballs like some kind of UV light; a light telling him that he still couldn’t play football, that he probably wouldn’t have been any good without the suit, anyway. 

 

“So,” Liz began, her eyes flicking over Peter’s side profile. “Homecoming.” Peter turned to face her suddenly.

 

“Oh, yeah- totally forgot that was happening,” He chuckled to himself awkwardly, but Liz shot him a warm look.

 

“I’ve been so busy working on it that, ha, I haven’t even found a date yet.” Peter’s eyebrows raised all the way to his hairline. His smile filled his face, and for a moment, his eyes looked normal again. 

 

He should ask her.

 

He really should. 

 

“Aw, ha- that’s a shame, really-,” His brain wrapped around something; something dark. Liz liked Spider-Man, not Peter. She was a senior, he was a sophomore. All this; all this homecoming hype, this obsession with needing to find someone to go with, with needing to get all dressed up; it was all-

 

Pointless, in the long run. 

 

Peter’s face slowly dropped. “Well, I hope you find someone to go with. You deserve that,” With a small wave, Peter strolled away from the trophy cabinet, headed for detention once more. Liz’s mouth hung open a little, her eyes going glassy. She stared at herself in the cabinet glass, catching a glimpse of Peter’s back as he turned the corner.

 

“OK-,” Michelle bombarded next to Peter, pushing her desk closer to his. Coach Wilson was nowhere to be seen, it was just the two of them. Peter stared at Michelle awkwardly. “You didn’t just do that- did you? That had to be some kind of joke- right?”

 

“What are you talking about-,”

 

“Liz. You just left her hanging like a pile of laundry.” Peter sighed, bringing his head down to rest on the desk. He shut his eyes. 

 

“What? As if I’d get to take her to homecoming,” Michelle’s eye twitched. 

 

“You’re kidding me, right? Did you not hear her- were you _not there_?” 

 

“Why were _you_ even there? Following me again, huh?” He shot daggers at Michelle, and she moved a little bit away from him, her brows furrowed. 

 

“Are- you alright-,”

 

“Why is _everyone_ asking me if I’m _alright_?” Peter shot up from his desk, his pale face filling with colour. He grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Michelle calmly pushed her desk back to where it belonged, and stood up straight, facing the fuming boy. “Why is it, when someone doesn’t look well, or is possibly depressed, do people suddenly need to ask if _they’re alright_? Do they not get that- perhaps- they just want to be _left alone_?” 

 

Michelle’s heart leapt out of her body and fell to the floor. Peter wasn’t OK. That much was certain.

 

And she wasn’t OK, because he wasn’t OK. 

 

She remembered seeing him quit robotics lab, and band practice, and thinking that something was up. She remembered him and Ned at Liz’s party, and how Flash had ruined it all for him. She remembered _everything_.

 

Because the fact was- she wanted to remember Peter Parker for the rest of her life.

 

But- she wasn’t going to remember him like this. No way in hell. 

 

Peter kept his gaze on her, his eyes harsh and mean, baring into hers like she was the one thing he truly hated. And she did something that she’d been afraid to do since the day she’d met him-

 

Without hesitation, Michelle grabbed Peter’s face with both hands, and pressed her lips against his. Her eyes fluttered closed for a fraction of a second, but when she realised Peter wasn’t doing anything, wasn’t _kissing her back_ \- she pulled away. His eyes looked blank, his jaw slightly ajar, his brows furrowed a little.

 

That was the most expression anyone had got out of him all month. 

 

Michelle traced his face once more; her eyes welling up with tears. 

 

And before they could overflow, Peter had left the room without a word. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so AH. I know, this is so fucking angst. I'd had this idea about Peter reacting way worse to Tony taking away his suit for a while, actually. I just never thought I'd write it this way, but I'm actually ,.., really enjoying ,..,.. writing it? Am I a sadist? God.
> 
> This was supposed to only be a damn one shot. I posted this baby eight hours ago and now I'm three chapters in because- of all of you. all the 700 hits and the comments and the kudos and the AHHH. I cant believe it. 
> 
> Thank you, and I hope you're enjoying (or crying at) this small lil angsty fic. Lotsa love x


	4. Chapter 4

Tony strolled around the compound, his brain felt like mush.

 

The kid had been off his tracking for more than a month now, and he hadn’t even heard from him; neither had Happy. Peter could be dead for all he knew.

 

His talk with Steve had put some things in perspective, and although Tony wasn’t one for sentimental or sappy conversations, he had to admit that it had helped him calm down.

 

But this wasn’t about him. This was about the kid. A split second decision had him slipping on his blazer and texting Happy to meet him in the parking lot; he was going to Queens.

 

-

 

Michelle gathered her things silently and left the detention classroom. A few stray tears still lingered on her chin, and her breathing was shallow and painful, but nevertheless she left for her fifth period Spanish class.

 

No one ever noticed her anyway, she was like a ghost. Seen when she wanted to be seen, but when she didn’t?

 

Invisible.

 

Never mind that she may have just ruined her entire friendship with Peter Parker, and because she’d ruined it with Peter she’d probably ruined it with Ned, and Liz, and-

 

Everyone.

 

She’d done it in a moment of weakness; kissed him, she meant. She’d kissed him because of a deep desire for him not to be sad, not to be feeling so insignificant that he didn’t compute that his crush for the past year wanted him to ask her to homecoming.

 

She admitted that yes, she had a habit of spying him in the corridors, walking the long way to class just to catch a glimpse of him, maybe even following him occasionally-

 

But she felt good knowing that he was OK.

 

Something deep inside of her was pelting her with alarm bells, claiming that he was in danger, that he was in harms way.

 

But she had no idea why her mind was insisting this. And she also had no idea what had changed in Peter’s life for him to be acting so strange; for him to be so unhappy.

 

Michelle slotted in her earphones and made her way towards class. She passed the trophy cabinet, where she’d spotted Liz and Peter not ten minutes ago. Her reflection glanced back at her in the glass;

 

Her hair was down today, and immensely curly. She tried to pat it down into something less frizzy, but it popped right back up after she took her hand away.

 

She rubbed under her eyes and straightened out her collar-

 

When she looked back in the glass, she didn’t look any different. She thought she looked worse, to be honest.

 

Is this what Peter saw whenever he looked at her? Did he see her giant pores, the bags under her eyes, the frizzy mess of hair? Did he see the scruffy clothes, the absence of make up-

 

Did he see any of her for who she truly was?

 

Did _anyone_ see her for who she truly was?

 

The tears came back tenfold then, and she tried so hard to swipe them away before they left her eyes, but it was useless. They drenched her face and wouldn’t stop; a waterfall of feelings had rushed over Michelle and she couldn’t shake it.

 

Her Spanish class missed her that day, as she paced it through the corridors and decided to head somewhere, anywhere, where she could get space, where she didn’t have to be reminded of Peter everywhere she went, where she was invisible but not because of school- where she was invisible because the world was so huge that she couldn’t even fathom what else was out there.

 

-

 

Peter slumped on his bed, his eyes trailing around his room with distaste. He stared at his backpack; his suit wasn’t in there today. It hadn’t been in there for more than a month.

 

For that month, everything he cared about, everything he worked towards, had slipped from his grasp. His grades, his relationships with people, his obsession with taking down Tooms and the wrongful business he was running.

 

He was brought back by two knocks at his front door, and slumped up to the door slowly, dragging his feet.

 

Tony was breathless, his face a pale red, his eyes peering into Peter’s with so much concern at first, until relief washed over his entire body as he saw Peter stood in front of him.

 

“God- kid-,” Tony swallowed hard, trying to catch his breath. Peter stood there, blank faced, the hint of a scowl below his lips. “You couldn’t at least call? Or- sent a carrier pigeon, or something?”

 

Peter didn’t move aside to let Tony in. The two of them merely stood, Peter inside and Tony in the empty hallway of his apartment building.

 

“Afraid I’d died? Or perhaps, killed myself?” Tony’s eyes searched his for something, and all he got back was anger; upset; the face of a kid so in need of something again.

 

“Come on, Peter-,”

 

“Don’t ‘come on’ me, Stark. You don’t get to fucking say that anymore.”

 

“Jeez, kid-,”

 

“ _I’m not a kid_ ,” He yelled, and Tony took a step back, fiddling with the yellow sunglasses in his pocket.

 

“Please- just listen,” Peter rolled his eyes, but nevertheless he waited for Tony to speak. “I’m _sorry_. I’m- not used to this. Not used to being the _responsible adult_. I’ve done bad things, to everyone. But that doesn’t mean they can’t continue to do what they love-,”

 

“You mean being Spider-Man? You’re fucking joking right?” The tears were falling thick and fast from Peter’s eyes right now. His throat was closing up by the second, and all Tony could do was watch. “Spider-Man is gone-,”

 

“No he’s not-,” Peter grabbed Stark’s collar, gripping it tightly with his fist and pulling Tony’s face closer to his. His eyebrows were low, his tear stained cheeks were a blotchy red. And he was angry.

 

He was as angry as Bruce Banner gone green.

 

“Yes. He is.”

 

Next thing Tony knew, he was standing in an empty hallway, his face inches away from Peter’s closed apartment door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is becoming the most depressing thing I’ve ever written, and I’ve written stuff about myself. Jeez.
> 
> Enjoy the angst lol.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Michelle watched as Spider-Man scaled the side of the building, his legs pumping so fast, his body moving with so much ease. Her friends were trapped inside the Washington Monument, and time was running out. 

 

“My friends are up there!” That was the first time she’d called them her _actual friends_ out-loud, and in any other circumstance she’d be feeling happy, even bashful, about it. 

 

But now they were on the cusp of death. 

 

Spider-Man leaped up the side of the monument suddenly, his leg getting faster and faster. She couldn’t imagine how he was feeling right now, knowing that he was probably the only person that could save them, the only person _there_ that could save them. But Iron Man wasn’t just around the corner; Captain America wasn’t in the damn country; the Avengers were more broken than Michelle’s ribcage would be after her heart exploded in her chest. 

 

She watched as the person filming this footage turned to their loved one, exclaiming “He just broke through the window!”. If these people were standing where she thought they were, that means she was probably only a few metres away from where they’d filmed it all happen. 

 

She shut her laptop down and slumped on the park bench she’d found. Surrounded by trees, by people minding their own business, going about their day, she couldn’t help but wonder;

 

Who the hell was Spider-Man? 

 

And _where the hell_ had he gone?

 

It had been a good month since anyone had spotted him out and about. A diner in Queens was robbed two weeks earlier, but no Spider-Man. A man’s car had been stolen on Queens Boulevard, but still- 

 

_No Spider-Man._

 

It was almost like he’d disappeared, almost like he’d taken a page out of Bruce Banner’s book and got out of the city, out the state, out of the country. Michelle sighed, and opened her laptop once more, scouring the internet for more footage of the masked hero. She clicked on another and sat in silence, just watching it; watching him. 

 

Heroes had become such a commodity now, it was almost impossible not to know someone with secret powers. Almost. 

 

Spider-Man swooped down over a dual carriageway, grabbing a woman before she got run over by a car chase in action. The crowd went wild, and the person filming yelled so loudly that he actually went over to them for a few extra seconds. _“Smile for the camera!”_

 

_“Hey, everybody! You all good?”_ He spoke to the lens, before hopping away once more, swinging from building to building until he was gone from view. Michelle furrowed her brows-

 

That voice. Why did it sound familiar?

 

She reversed the video and rewatched it over a dozen times, and each time she listened closer, more intently. It was on the tip of her tongue, literally. The name was there in the dark, his voice so recognisable it could have been her dad for all she knew; it could have been anyone from her job; anyone from her school; her Spanish class; decathlon. 

 

_“Hey, everybody! You all good?”_

 

That voice, that boyish charm. It resonated with something inside of her. It made her stomach squirm, and she had a feeling she knew why. It made her heart beat faster with each time she listened, and when she shut her eyes her heart would literally jolt whenever he spoke. It was only after she opened her eyes that she realised she was blushing-

 

She was blushing at a video, because she had a feeling she knew who Spider-Man was. 

 

-

 

Tony heard him pick up. “I just- I mean. Do I just give him the suit back?” He heard the distinctive sound of Steve grumbling on the other side of the line, but it had a tinge of tiredness to it. And by tinge, he meant truck load. “Wait- did I just wake you up?”

 

“I wasn’t really sleeping anyway.” Steve yawned. 

 

“What _time_ is it, wherever you are?” Tony could hear his smile.

 

“It’s late.”

 

“Great,” Stark began, a smile stretching across his own mouth. “That narrows down the countries you could have fled to.”

 

“As if you’d come looking for me, anyway.” Steve spoke, and Tony opened his mouth as if he were about to reply. But the breath got caught in his throat. Instead, a disheveled, one note chuckle escaped from his lips. 

 

“You think I wouldn’t come looking for you?” Steve scoffed a little down the phone, but it didn’t offend Tony. In fact, Tony couldn’t believe that something that soppy actually came out of his mouth. “Anyway- the kid.”

 

“This guilt is eating you up, Stark.” 

 

“Yeah, no shit. I feel like you did when you lip-synced _Star Spangled Man with a Plan_ instead of performing it straight up-,”

 

“Let’s not add embarrassing stories about me because you can’t deal with serious stuff. This is about the kid, and about you.” Steve was right, but Tony’s sarcastic levels didn’t really have an on and off switch. It was more like a continuous loop. But it was true; Tony had an inability of dealing with things when they were emotional. He just couldn’t, wouldn’t, say “Well done”, “Good job”, or any other phrase designed to praise and thank another human being at the same time. 

 

“I saw him today, like, an hour ago,”

 

“And?”

 

Tony thought back to that door being slammed in his face, to the kid’s eyes overflowing and the tears covering his blotchy face. It made him feel sick that in the past month he’d seen Peter cry more than once, and that it was completely his fault. 

 

_“None of this would have happened if you’d just listened to me-”_

 

Fuck.

 

“He said that Spider-Man was gone.”

 

“Jeez,” Steve winced. “This kid is even more dramatic than you.” Tony clamped his eyes shut. 

 

“He’s- _broken_. I’ve never seen him like this. Happy said he hasn’t even been _texting_ him.”

 

“I think it’s more than just him who’s broken. You’re not yourself, Tony. You haven’t been yourself ever since you took the suit away from the kid in the first place,” Tony swallowed. “Because you wouldn’t have called me if you were.” 

 

“You don’t know that- maybe I just wanted a catch up?” His tone was back to its sarcastic self. 

 

“‘Oh, hey, Steve! How you doin’? How’s being a war criminal treating you? Yeah, I’m sorry everyone’s still in that high facility prison underneath the freaking ocean.’”

 

Tony waited a beat, fiddling with his nails. 

 

“That didn’t even sound anything like me-,”

 

“ _Tony_.”

 

“OK, _OK_ \- do you want me to admit that I haven’t been able to sleep more than _three hours_ a night for the past _three weeks_? That I had to _drag myself_ into the shower after a week and a half of not leaving the compound because I was just thinking about _the kid_ and how his face looked when I took him to that stupid pop up stall and bought him a _shirt_ and some _fucking pyjama bottoms_ so he would have something to walk home in? That when I got into the car and _left him on the sidewalk_ that I couldn’t feel my body- that my hands wouldn’t stop shaking and I had to ask FRIDAY if I was having _another_ panic attack? 

 

“Is that what you wanted me to admit, Rogers?”

 

Steve breathed down the line. It was a subdued breath, a sharp one that meant he’d got what he wanted. 

 

“Congratulations, Tony Stark. You have a damn heart.” 

 

-

 

Michelle sprinted up the steps two at a time, her bag slung over her shoulder. Her face was hot, and her heart was pounding inside her body so hard she had to rest against the wall outside his apartment for a good few minutes. 

 

But she’d reached Peter’s in one piece, despite the fact she’d only been to his once before and couldn’t really remember the way until she stumbled across Mr Delmoor’s shop. That’s when she knew that Peter lived two blocks right of the deli, and she knew it was on the seventh floor, apartment B. 

 

After her breath was back to normal, she stood at Peter’s door, trying her best not to throw up. 

 

Her knuckles hit the frame twice. 

 

She heard feet shuffling inside.

 

Then Peter stood in front of her, his eyes red and puffy, his hair even more disheveled than earlier today at school. 

 

“Peter-,”

 

“Michelle-?” 

 

She lunged inside the apartment, swinging the door behind her so fast that all Peter could do was jump back and watch. 

 

“Look, if this is about detention- I’m sorry I shouted.” Michelle stared at him, her mind almost forgetting about what had happened earlier in the day. The kiss- the fight- fuck. 

 

“Oh- no, it’s OK-,”

 

“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you- and then I just left, after _you_ -,”

 

“ _Peter,_ ” He stopped mumbling, his eyes coming back into focus on Michelle’s face. “It’s fine, it’s really- all fine.” She was almost giggling about it now. 

 

He got up suddenly, and his arms were wrapped around her before she could object. Not that she would. In a million years. 

 

“I- didn’t come here about _all that_.” Peter removed himself from the embrace, his face looking slightly more colourful. He waited patiently for her to continue, his eyes searching hers for anything that was wrong. 

 

She exhaled, her hands shaking slightly. Because this could go either way- 

 

She could be completely wrong, and Peter would laugh so loudly and exclaim ‘ _How the hell did you come to_ that _conclusion?_ ’

 

Or, he was actually Spider-Man. 

 

And this would explain his incredibly low mood, his inability to see things about other people anymore, his depressive state- and the absence of Spider-Man everywhere. 

 

His face dropped when she still hasn’t said anything, she could almost hear the pounding of his heart. 

 

“You’re _Spider-Man_.. aren’t you, Peter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ello, ello. Yes, I have been shit at updating this week. But I have a lot of college word right now, alongside the fact I got super into a book series and had a book attached to my hand everywhere I went for the past few weeks, too. But hello! New update! Woo!
> 
> It's a cliffhanger. Sorry.
> 
> Enjoy x


	6. Chapter 6

Peter looked at Michelle, his eyes glassy.

 

“What?” He whispered, and Michelle backed away from him, her face going bright red in the dwindling Queens light.

 

“Are,” she swallowed, not believing she was actually repeating it. “You Spider-Man?”

 

Peter stood still, his heart beating so fast it felt like it’d fall out of his chest. How could she know this- how could Michelle have guessed? This-

 

_This-_

 

Wasn’t happening.

 

“Spider-Man,” Peter spoke, his eyes falling to the floor. Michelle waited patiently, her eyes tracing his face with every second; he was shaken; he was bruised; and if it wasn’t because he was Spider-Man, what the hell was it?

 

“Peter-,”

 

“I think you should go, Michelle,”

 

He was hiding something, whether that was the fact he was a damn superhero or not, she was going to try and figure out why.

 

When she looked at Peter, all she saw was pain; hurt; something so crushing it even jolted her from afar.

 

He was heavily depressed, he was insanely unhappy. Michelle wanted to know why. She had to at least try. 

 

She wasn’t leaving, no way.

 

“Tell me what’s going on-,”

 

“You need to leave,” Peter said, moving to his small kitchen and leaning against the counter. He breathed for a minute, and Michelle shut his apartment door. He jumped at the click, and focused on her again. “I’m- I’m not-,” his voice chuckled away, and what was left was nothing more than a broken child.

 

Michelle stared at her friend, her first love, the first guy she’d ever actually kissed;

 

“You are, _aren’t you?”_

 

She was losing faith in herself, in what she'd first though when seeing that video. It was all enough for Peter.

 

That was enough for the tears to start to flow. It was enough for Peter to collapse silently onto his couch, his face in his hands, his arms shaking.

 

Enough for Michelle to shuffle over and sit next to him, thinking of what the hell to do to make him feel better, what the hell to do to get him back to normal.

 

Peter was full on crying now, his tears covering his face the same way they’d covered everything when Tony had come over.

 

But Michelle didn’t push him; she didn’t do so much as sit silently, her hands quivering as they wanted to wrap themselves around the crying boy; her crying boy. As his body convulsed, Peter found himself shuffling towards her, and then soon his arms were wrapped around her once more.

 

She hugged him back with so much force, as if she were trying to project herself onto him, trying to telepathically tell him it would all be OK, despite not knowing why Peter was upset in the first place. 

 

Because it was true that losing the suit had ruined him. 

 

His ideals, his moods, what he thought about, what he did from when he got up in the morning to when he slept at night; it had all changed ever since Stark had said those words-

 

_“That’s it- I need the suit back.”_

 

Along with the suit being gone, Peter had lost that part of him that _was_ Spider-Man. He’d lost the drive to take down another bad guy, to fight alongside the Avengers at another ‘retreat’. He’d even lost his theoretical Stark Internship- he’d lost it all.

 

His friends, his motivation to succeed, his ability to smile and talk to people, to tell when they wanted him to take them to Homecoming. If he went on like this for any longer, he’d end up losing himself entirely. 

 

Michelle kept her arms around him, even when they pulled apart. She pushed Peter’s hair back from his sodden face and watched as he chuckled half-heartedly at himself and his crying, his sobbing. She grabbed his hands in hers and kept her eyes plastered on his.

 

And it didn’t feel weird at all, to either of them.

 

“I didn’t mean to make you upset-,” Michelle began, and Peter’s eyebrows shot up. 

 

“No, no, no- this wasn’t you. This is just- me. Being stupid. Really,” She smiled a little, question marks still stamped all over her mind. 

 

“I-,” She started, clearing her throat. “Don’t want to push you. I mean, maybe me bringing up Spider-Man was _completely_ the wrong idea when you reacted like that- I just-,”

 

“You’re right.”

 

Peter said, his eyes looking the most normal that they had all week.

 

_God,_ Michelle thought. _How could I have been so fucking wrong?_

 

Michelle started nodding a lot suddenly, taking her hands away from Peter’s. 

 

So, it was a mistake, all of it. He wasn’t Spider-Man, for gods sake. She’d just embarrassed herself even more than she’d already done in detention, as well as making Peter even more upset than he already was. 

 

“Yeah- it was stupid. All of it-,” She shuffled away from him even more, keeping her head down. 

 

Now Peter was the one to shoot her with a confusing look. “What? Wait-,”

 

“No, no, it’s fine. I don’t know, maybe I was just thinking about you after detention and _that’s why_ I thought you were him-,”

 

“Michelle-,”

 

“No, it’s fine,” She shot up from the couch suddenly, grabbing her bag. “I’m sorry.” The embarrassment had crept through her entire body as was now eating her up alive. The anxiety drowned out her ability to think rationally, infiltrating her mind with the same word - _Run. Run. Run. Run._

 

Her hand grabbed the door knob, and Peter jumped up. 

 

“I _am_ Spider-Man, Michelle.”

 

Peter couldn’t believe those words were leaving his mouth. He’d just admitted it, even though he didn’t have the damn suit; even though an hour ago he’d told Tony Stark that Spider-Man was gone. 

 

But it felt good.

 

It felt _true_ \- even just for a second.

 

He _was_ Spider-Man, he had _always_ been Spider-Man. 

 

He was without the suit, yes. He was damaged; broken; bruised. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been Spider-Man. It didn’t mean he couldn’t move on, eventually.

 

Michelle stopped, her back to Peter. She raised her chin and sniffed, dropping her bag to the floor slowly and rubbing her eyes, so much so that she thought they’d disappear into her head. Peter strolled up behind her, grabbed her arms and twisted her around to face him. 

 

Up close, Peter Parker was beautiful. Michelle had been this close to him for the second time in one day, and she’d be lying if she wasn’t relishing it all. Being this close to him- it all felt right. 

 

“Surprised?” He asked, a smile appearing on his chapped lips. It uplifted his still blotchy face, and for just a fraction he looked like himself again, he sounded like himself. 

 

“No,” She said, as clear as day, her voice steady. “I’m not.” 

 

Peter furrowed his brows. “Why?” 

 

Michelle looked down, her face going bright red. Peter was holding her gently, still. He could sense her anxiety, her discomfort from before, dissipate into the floorboards and down to the apartment below. She felt a surge of confidence, suddenly, and she knew what she was going to say. She knew what she wanted to say, what she wanted Peter to know.

 

After today, he’d know how she felt, even if she didn’t say it out right.

 

She caught his eyes and smiled.

 

“Because it’s you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell by now, I love Michelle and Peter.
> 
> It never occurred to me how cute they were together until I started writing this, until I watched Spider-Man Hoco again and squealed at the end scene where Peter goes to meet Happy in the bathroom and Michelle just looks at him like that. God.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy x


	7. Chapter 7

“So, the suit’s gone.”

 

Peter breathed in and out, his face still slightly red and his entire body beating with each pump of his heart. He’s told her everything; the powers, Stark, Berlin- and she’d listened to all of it with a straight face, a trusting face. 

 

“Yeah,” Peter croaked out, his eyes trailing down to his lap. Michelle shuffled closer to him on the couch.

 

“But- that _doesn’t mean_ you’re not Spider-Man-,”

 

“Yes, _it does_ , Michelle.” His eyes pierced into hers. “You have no idea what it’s like without that suit, without this other part of me.”

 

“It’s MJ,” She whispered out, and Peter’s frowning face was upturned into a smile. He grabbed her hands hesitantly as they lay in her lap, and the neon blush swept over her cheeks again. 

 

Michelle had no clue why Peter had opened up to her, why he’d told her everything. The only other people who properly knew the whole story were Ned and Mr Stark- how did Michelle even manage to make the cut?

 

She glanced at her phone, trying not to seem rude, and then jumped up after the time sunk in. 

 

“Shit-,” She said, grabbing her jacket and slipping it on. “I’ve gotta go- I’ve got work in twenty minutes,” She grabbed her bag as Peter got up and headed to the apartment door. He pulled it open as Michelle found her subway pass. 

 

“I didn’t know you had a job,” Peter said, his smile soft and welcoming. Michelle stopped for a second.

 

“There’s- a whole lot you don’t know about me,” She scoffed a little, and straightened herself out, fluffing up her hair a little and then tucking it behind her ears. She smiled at him, leaning on the door frame. 

 

Peter inched slightly closer, his cheeks gaining a bit of colour. 

 

“Is it- wrong that I’d like to know more?”

 

Michelle laughed a little to herself, and replied with a small shake of her head. Was this really happening? 

 

Even if Peter didn’t want anything with her; even if he just wanted to become a closer friend; she didn’t care. He was taking an interest, the same interest she’d had in him for so long, but had always been too afraid to talk to him about- to ask him about. 

 

“Cool-,” Peter said, and he took a shaky step back, his face glowing even more red. “I’ll, text you, sometime- yeah?” 

 

Michelle beamed at him, and he beamed back. “Sure thing, _Spider-Man_ ,” her sarcastic self had returned, the anxious pit in her stomach had disappeared, and as she left Peter’s apartment she almost looked back-

 

Almost. 

 

But not quite.

 

-

 

“MJ knows,” Peter said, stuffing a bagel in his mouth.

 

Ned stared at his best friend, awestruck. “How?” 

 

“She _guessed_ ,” Peter muttered. 

 

“No way,” Ned stabbed some fries onto his fork. 

 

The two of them sat in comfortable but shocked silence for a few minutes, just surveying the cafeteria as everyone bustled by. These past few weeks had been insane; heart breaking, yes; but also insane.

 

Was it possible that Peter was starting to move on? Starting to get over not having the suit, not having that part of himself? 

 

The daily high school show aired on the television at the front of the cafeteria- 

 

_“The Spider-Man buzz at the school is still in flow, but where is the masked hero now? And is he still rescuing high school kids from monuments?”_

 

Peter almost choked on his food. 

 

He swallowed painfully and quickly grabbed his bag, shoving himself up from the table. He paced it out of the cafeteria, leaving Ned still sat there by himself.

 

So, he wasn’t over it. 

 

Peter couldn’t deny that he was still hurting, even after all this time. He couldn’t deny that he almost wanted Tony to come back to his apartment so he could intentionally slam the door back in his face. 

 

He’d loved the guy, praised him, idolised him, for so long. And now this-

 

He still couldn’t compute why he’d take away the suit after giving it to him in the first place, practically granting him a spot in with the Avengers in a sense-

 

And then ripping it all away from him.

 

Peter’s locker squeaked open, but he didn’t put anything inside. He held the door shakily, trying his best not to punch anything. Inside, at the very back of his locker, a photo of him and Stark stared right at him.

 

Tony was smiling his same old posing smile, his left hand up in a peace sign, his yellow glasses donned alongside his classic suit jacket and blazer combo. 

 

Peter looked so young next to him, almost naive. He was smiling so wide his eyes were almost closed, and he imitated Stark’s peace sign enthusiastically. 

 

That was taken two days before Berlin. 

 

“For publicity, incase the press ever somehow see us together and wants answers.” Tony had said, and Peter had gone along with it all. 

 

There hadn’t been any press surrounding the two of them; no one would care if some random kid got a photo with Tony Stark; people saw him everyday, people had his autograph, his photo;

 

Peter had _thought_ he had his trust. 

 

Turns out that was all a publicity stunt, too.

 

He tried not to slam his locker, but it still smashed closed. 

 

“Peter?” MJ’s timid voice came up behind him, and it was almost funny how he seemed to relax. His body slumped back down from its tense state, and he turned to see her eyes peering at him, asking him if he was OK without actually asking him a thing. 

 

“Hey,” he said, and he smiled genuinely at her. She smiled back. 

 

It felt odd to feel this normal when everything in his life for the past eight months had been far from normal- 

 

As the two of them walked in a comfy silence down the corridor to Spanish, Peter was all too aware of MJ strolling right next to him.

 

He was all too aware of how _happy_ it made him that she was there. 

 

-

 

“I have a feeling he wouldn’t even take the suit back if I gave it to him. He’s too proud for that kinda stuff,” Tony spoke down the phone. 

 

Steve Rogers, otherwise known as Captain America, the first Avenger, and now- Tony Stark’s personal therapist. 

 

Sure, Tony had a therapist, an _expensive_ one at that.

 

But he was no where as good as Cap.

 

“You’re thinking too much about it, I think he’d take the suit back no question.” Cap and Tony had got into a routine of calling a few times a week, almost everyday.

 

If it wasn’t Tony calling Cap, then Cap would call him instead. 

 

“Just checking up,” he’d say, and Tony would almost smile each time, but that was before his brain was pushed back into the conversation of the kid- 

 

Then everything went dark again.

 

“You don’t know him like I do. He’d slam that door in my face. Again.” Steve scoffed slightly, and Tony slumped on the couch. 

 

“I’ve never seen you- well, _heard_ you- be like this. About anyone,” 

 

Tony sighed, and was tempted to yell into one of the couch cushions. 

 

“Yeah well,” he paused, tapping his fingers on his thigh. “He’s a pretty special kid.” 

 

“If I wasn’t sleep deprived from your calls I’d almost say you and him were family.” 

 

Tony hung his head in his lap.

 

“You just did,”

 

“Whoops,” Cap said, and Tony could sense his grin. “Guess I did.” 

 

Tony wracked his mind for some kind of key, some kind of answer as to why the kid had managed to get under his skin so much. 

 

“I just- feel _responsible_ ,”

 

“About what, exactly? Making him depressed? Making _yourself_ depressed?”

 

“About _everything_ -,” the compound ‘door bell’ went off then, and Tony was pulled out of his mind and pushed back into reality. “That’s the door, gotta go.”

 

He hung up the phone before Cap could say anything. It was like his code for- _this isn’t finished_. 

 

He jogged down the stairs and went to the porch, which was an elaborate bunch of doors that only opened to his or any of the other Avengers finger prints- just for extra precaution.

 

You could never have too much precaution.

 

“I’ll get it Vision-,” Tony yelled, just as he placed his thumb on the pad and the door opened up.

 

In front of him stood a sopping wet, red faced Peter Parker-

 

He shivered in the doorway, his eyes piercing into Tony’s with a mixture of anger and hurt- and maybe a little bit of relief.

 

“Hey, Mr Stark,” Peter muttered through a clenched jaw. Tony could see the kid battling with himself as to why he came to the compound. He could see the need to run away, or punch Tony squarely in his jaw. 

 

But he stayed put.

 

“Can I come in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm heading to my friend's house tomorrow to have somewhat of a Marvel marathon, so I felt like posting a chapter just to continue this obsession that has completely taken over my body and mind. 
> 
> At least I'm being somewhat productive by writing.
> 
> Enjoy x


	8. Chapter 8

Tony had seen Peter sopping wet before. He’d seen him battered and bruised in the physical sense, as well.

 

But this was totally different. 

 

The rain was pounding down, so much so that Peter’s skin was littered with tiny red marks from where the drops had hit his skin and spread out over his body. 

 

The kid walked into the compound slowly, all the while Tony’s eyes followed him with shock, as if the kid was going to jump on him and tackle him to the ground. 

 

“Hey, kid..” Tony began, or not really began, because he was immediately cut off. 

 

“I didn’t come here for you to talk, Tony,” Peter’s words plastered through the air, damaging something inside Stark. The kid had grown up in a matter of months, he’d established that just because he was young, just because he wasn’t a billionaire or a playboy or a philanthropist- it didn’t mean he couldn’t out bid Tony in a speaking war. 

 

“Sure,” Was all Tony could get out, and then he started walking towards the compound living room, Peter following closely behind him. 

 

Tony didn’t want to admit that he didn’t want a sopping wet teenager walking through his facility, and in this case- it wasn’t true. He would have asked for a million sopping wet teenagers if they were all Peter Parker. 

 

“Tony, I was running through the numbers for this last quarter and-,” Pepper Potts bustled round the corner and into view. She stopped immediately, no doubt knowing what happened between Tony and the kid. “Oh, Mr Parker,” She spoke, and gave him a smile. 

 

He was far too polite not to smile back, or even say a quick “Hi, Miss Potts.” 

 

“Well,” Pepper glanced at Tony quickly. “I’ll leave you guys to it,” She fast walked away, clip board in hand, her shoes clicking through the slate lobby flooring- and then she was gone. 

 

Then everything was silent. 

 

Tony sat down on one of the couches, and gestured at the other. 

 

Peter stayed standing, his clothes still dripping all over the floor. His hair was flat and droopy, his face didn’t look much better. What had the kid done? _Walked_ here? 

 

“I didn’t come here for you,” Peter began, stuffing his hands in his water ridden pockets. “I came here for me. Because apparently even I need to fix myself after you ruined me,”

 

Tony’s habit of interrupting kicked into gear, and he couldn’t stop himself. “Kid-,”

 

“ _Stop calling me kid_ and _shut up_ ,” Tony leant back into the couch cushions. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve never had someone take away your suits, or your stuff. The possessions that make you, you. Well, _I have_ , Stark.”

 

Peter glared right at him, his eyes not divulging anything except for anger. Tony wanted to interrupt again. He wanted to say “I have lost things- I’ve lost a lot,” But he knew that in comparison with the kid, with what he cared about, with what his family has had to cope with;

 

It was practically identical. 

 

All except, Peter was _younger_ by 20 years. 

 

His parents, then his uncle- and now this- now Spider-Man wasn’t within his reach anymore. 

 

“How can you- just _take something away_ from someone? After you promised a life that was _so much_ _more_ than a two bedroom apartment in Queens, or the F train every morning to Spanish class? Who gave you to right to be able to do that?”

 

Tony had made the suit, yes. 

 

But Peter had made Spider-Man. 

 

Tony remembered when Happy told him about Berlin- the kid was going to rush into battle in his jammies, no questions asked. He was going to stampede into that death trap wearing a red sweatshirt and those swimming goggles on his face. 

 

Tony had thrust him into the suit, given him unlimited options that not even a kid with some carbon-dated web fluid could think of.

 

_“I gave him everything, then I took it all away,”_

 

Tony hated the fact that Steve could get practically anything out of him- including all his wandering thoughts and struggles surrounding Peter. He stayed silent as the kid shuffled uncomfortably in front of him.

 

“I’m not here to beg for the suit back- even if I was I don’t think you’d give it to me.” Tony wanted to jump up and hand him the suit, say ‘Are you kidding? Here, take it! Take it all!’ He stayed sat, silently wishing Peter would forgive him, silently laughing at himself for thinking that would even happen. “I’m here- for, I don’t know, closure?” 

 

“Closure?” Tony whispered, scoffing to himself. Peter glared at him again, his eyes going glassy. This wasn’t just anger, obviously. This was Peter’s way of saying goodbye.

 

And he erupted.

 

“When will you actually _praise_ me for something? When will you look at me like an _adult_ , someone mature enough to _ever_ be able to stand by your side?”

 

Tony got up and started pacing, his hands fumbling with his blazer cuffs. 

 

He didn’t know if Peter was crying again or if it was just from the rain, but either way it broke him to the core. 

 

“Peter-,”

 

“Don’t try and give me one of your lectures, Tony. I’ve heard them all-,” He leant against the back of the couch, arms bent. “I just- I just-,”

 

“ _Wanted to be like me._ ” Tony whispered, nodding his head. “And I don’t want you to be anything like me, because I’m destructive-,” Peter’s eyes widened. “I’m wrong, I’m- not a good person.

 

“And you’re _my_ responsibility-,”

 

“What’s with you and this responsibility? I can take care of _myself_ -,”

 

“Yeah, but then what happens when you _don’t_? When you fall down in battle and you _don’t get back up_. ‘Cause that’s on me, _kid_ ,” Peter took a step back, his shoes squeaking. “And I don’t ever- _ever_ \- want to see that happen..”

 

Peter gulped, his eyes tracing over Tony’s face in shock. Tony couldn’t pin why he hadn’t retorted by now, he couldn’t understand what had happened to the snappy, angry kid that had first walked into the compound- he was replaced with something else completely.

 

Stark didn’t know until one drop hit the floor, until the tears were covering his face entirely, and it was far too late to shrug it all off.

 

Peter sniffed and wiped his face, his eyes turning back into the angry orbs they were when they arrived. 

 

He was seething. 

 

“ _I wish I’d never met you_ ,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another day, another angst chapter. I watched Captain America: The First Avenger and Avengers Assemble today, too, if you were wondering how much more Marvel I could actually take. (Spoilers: it's a lot)
> 
> Thank you for your kudos, comments and bookmarks as always.
> 
> Enjoy x


	9. Chapter 9

“It was one of the worst things I’ve been through- not even kidding,” Tony huffed, but Steve scoffed.

 

“God, you’re so quick to think it’s the end of the world, Stark,” Steve had always been sympathetic before, but now Tony was listening to him literally _laughing_ down the phone.

 

“Am I- _missing something_?” 

 

“Yes- you are. Both of you care _way_ too much about each other to admit it. That’s why the kid said all that shit,” 

 

God, was it really as simple as that?

 

All Tony got from the kid was him wanting to be treated like an adult. All Peter got from Tony was him babying him to oblivion. The two were fighting against each other because they _cared_. 

 

“I’m so _stupid-_ ,” 

 

“Kinda-” 

 

“ _OK_ , Stars and Stripes, get back in your corner,” After a laugh, the phone cut off, and Tony was left with his new thoughts. 

 

How could he have been so- _Howard Stark_? Disregarding the kid’s feelings because he thought something else. The whole ordeal surrounding the suit had been blown way out of proportion; it wasn’t just about the suit; it was about the way Tony treated the kid- _like a kid_.

 

In his eyes, Peter was something to be protected, something to be taken care of. 

 

In Peter’s eyes, Tony was almost suffocating him, patronising him to the point where he took the suit away because he wasn’t mature enough to use it.

 

“You _are_ a drama queen,” Pepper smiled at Tony as he was slumped on the lab floor, the suit laid out in front of him. 

 

“Yeah, I’ve been told,” 

 

Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked round to stand behind him. 

 

“I feel like Peter gets it all from you,” 

 

“He- what?” Tony twisted his body to look up at her. 

 

“He’s like a younger carbon copy of you. Though you wouldn’t notice something like that even if it was on the end of your nose,” she raised her eyebrows at him, and strolled away, leaving Tony staring at the ceiling. 

 

-

 

“He just- sat there! Like I was someone so unimportant-,”

 

“But you said he was crying?” MJ tapped her pen against her Spanish notebook. The two of them had agreed to study together; no studying had been done as of yet. 

 

Peter scoffed. “He did that to spite me, obviously,”

 

“Oh my _god_ -,” MJ dropped her pen and stared at Peter, her mouth open. “You seriously don’t think he’s sorry? You’re insufferable when you’re like this-,”

 

“Like what-,”

 

“Like _Tony freaking Stark_. You’re exactly the same,” Peter slumped on his bed then, staring coldly at the wall. “He took the suit away, you got pissed. He tried to apologise, you got _pissed_. Going to the compound tipped him _and_ yourself over the edge. This would be the perfect time to have an emotional make up session.” 

 

Silence. Then Peter looked at MJ. 

 

“You’re joking- right?”

 

MJ made a noise that could only be described as a growl, and got up from Peter’s desk, stuffing her books into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder.

 

“You’re _leaving_? Why-,”

 

“Because in an hour you’re going to realise that you care about that _dickhead_ of a man and his well groomed beard. And you’re going to rush back to compound and fall into his arms and realise that-,”

 

“This isn’t a movie from 1978,” 

 

“Peter- I’m going to say this, and then I’m going through your apartment door.” 

 

Peter perked up, jumping up to stand in front of MJ. He fiddled with his fingers and waited for her to talk. 

 

“He didn’t take the suit away because you’re _just a kid_ ,” Peter frowned. “He took it away because he _cares_ too much about you to see you in danger-,”

 

“But-,”

 

“ _I’m not finished_ ,” MJ scowled at him, raising her eyebrows, and he got back into his theoretical box. “Even if you don’t want to admit it you _are_ his responsibility- he _gave_ you the suit. But without it? You’re not under his thumb anymore.

 

“Don’t you see? He’s letting you be Spider-Man freely,” Peter swallowed and clenched his jaw. “Idiot,” MJ added, and smirked. She ruffled his hair and left the apartment before he could fight her words. 

 

-

 

Peter rushed towards the entrance of the upstate facility and jumped over the security grate. It wasn’t raining today, thankfully. 

 

He’d been stupid and dumb, he’d actually been acting more like a child than he already was. He’d needlessly put Tony through emotional hell.

 

And he needed to say sorry.

 

He needed to look Stark in the eye and tell him that he didn’t mean at all what he’d said earlier, that he was proud to have him as a mentor, however brief the time had been. 

 

Peter reached the heavily armoured door and called again; he could hear the sound inside the compound, and sooner or later Tony’s face would be on the other side of that door.

 

The doors mechanism clicked three times and the bolts were unlocked;

 

And there stood- 

 

“Vision?” Peter said breathlessly. 

 

“Mr Parker- what’re you-,”

 

Peter pushed past a sweater wearing Vision and straight into the compounds lobby. It was quiet all round.

 

“I’m here to see Mr Stark- also those guards at the front gate are probably still after me- but I _need_ to see Mr Stark,” Peter looked behind him warily to see if those big hulking guys were still running. Peter had simply chosen to ignore them after jumping through the security grate.

 

“Mr Stark is-,” Vision closed the door, “He’s somewhat, missing.” 

 

“ _Missing_?” Peter repeated, and Vision’s face turned grim. 

 

“Yesterday morning, he left the compound and has yet to return. We’ve tried all we can to contact him- but nothing,” 

 

“He’s- gone?”

 

Peter glanced around the compound, which now seemed much darker, less alive now that he knew Tony wasn’t there. 

 

His gut coiled at the thought of Tony being somewhere unsafe. Even if he was Iron Man, one of the most powerful men ever known; it still worried him. 

 

It was the same worry he’d felt after Uncle Ben had left the apartment, that one Saturday in June. 

 

Peter swallowed, his face turning pale.

 

Tony Stark was gone-

 

And it was all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao these kids are so dramatic. 
> 
> Enjoy x


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, just a quick check in before you read this next chapter. 
> 
> It's very short because I wasn't able to finish it fully, I'm off to Berlin for a week and wanted to make sure I posted at least something small for you all before I left, so I apologise for it being insanely short. 
> 
> All I'm going to be thinking about in Berlin is the fact that Civil War took place at the airport, and that Peter made his little movie around the Brandenburg Gate and all those German landmarks- which is where I'm going this week! Ah!
> 
> Anyway, I hope this is OK to sustain you guys for the few days I'll be MIA.
> 
> Thanks for the continued support, and I have other ideas in the works right now too- like continuing other stuff and also possibly something about Doctor Who...
> 
> Enjoy x

Tony’s head rattled incessantly, so much so that the room visibly shook as he opened up his eyes, revealing a dank warehouse of some kind.

 

There was blood on the floor, and Tony didn’t know if it was his or someone else’s. 

 

“Hello-,” He croaked, his deep voice not getting far through the darkness. He coughed a few times, and his head boomed with agonising pain.

 

He traced his forehead- one massive slit had opened up by his left temple. 

 

The blood was _his_.

 

The bruising had already started- the wound was fresh. But right now all Tony needed to know was _who’d_ done this. And _why_.

 

And then kick their ass.

 

“Tony Stark,” a woman trotted up to him as he still laid on the floor. It wasn’t until he looked closer that he realised his hands were chained to the floor. 

 

“What is this-,”

 

“You don’t remember me? Well, that’s cheap,” her voice was honey-toned but clouded by so much hate. She was raging, yet on the surface she was calm; the worst type of anger. 

 

He angled his head upwards painfully, trying desperately to catch a glance of the person in front of him. But she lunged down his level so quickly that he tried to scramble backwards; instead, his hair was being pulled from the top of his head; his eyes were face to face with his captor;

 

“Mrs Spencer,” he croaked out, and swallowed. “Charles Spencer’s mom,” her face stayed blank as she shoved Tony’s head to the floor. 

 

“I’m going to ask you again-,” Tony felt two other pairs of feet approach from the darkness through the floor; it wasn’t just him and her; this had been planned out. 

 

Mrs Spencer picked up his head again by his hair, and Tony breathed painfully through his nose. 

 

“ _Who’s going to avenge my son, Stark?_ ” 

 

One of the two men behind her stepped forward, and in his arms was a weapon; it glowed purple in the dark warehouse, and Tony could practically feel the energy radiating from it. 

 

His mind clicked.

 

This was one of Tooms’ weapons, the ones that Peter had tried to warn him about-

 

He was staring directly into the barrel of a Chitauri core energised killing machine. 

 

-

 

“Did he say where he was going-,”

 

“No, he-,”

 

“Did he take his phone? Could we track his suit-?”

 

“His suit is still in the lab, Mr Parker, though his summon bands are gone.”

 

Peter furrowed his eyebrows at Vision.

 

“Summon bands?”

 

“Mr Stark’s summon bands allow him to connect to the suit at all times,” Peter wracked his brain for any type of solution to the problem. It wasn’t like Tony to simply leave without at least picking up calls as to where he was going. The press was all over his movements worldwide, but the news held no answers this time. 

 

Peter stared at Vision, and a thought cut through his worry. 

 

“Happy-,” he said, and suddenly his feet were moving through the compound to Happy’s small cubicle of an office, just off of Stark’s lab.

 

Happy let him in immediately, his expression no less morbid than Vision’s.

 

“He told me to take him to Queens, and I did, but he got out the car three blocks from your place-,”

 

“M-my place?” Peter stuttered. Happy frowned.

 

Peter wanted so badly for it not to be true, for Tony to not have been heading to his apartment to also apologise. He’d been captured on the way- it made Peter indirectly responsible. 

 

He let out a stuttering breath, his entire body feeling like it could collapse into a puddle on the floor. Happy’s eyes pierced into his, and he swallowed.

 

“He was going to see _you_ , Peter,” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I'm back! Berlin was amazing, I feel exhausted but refreshed, if that's even possible.
> 
> So, it took me a while to get back on track with this, but with the help of my fabulous friend I gained back the inspiration I needed to write this baby again. We're getting close to the end- it's kind of upsetting. Who am I kidding, we all know I'm going to end up writing another Tony dad and Peter son fic, I can't be stopped. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this! Thanks for all your supportive comments, kudos and bookmarks as always x

Peter slumped on one of the compound couches, his head in the clouds and his heart beating so fast it was about to take off. 

 

Happy had left the compound in a huff just minutes earlier, his face a bright red and his whole body sweating profusely.

 

“It’s my fault-,”

 

“Mr Parker, it’s not your fault.” Vision reassured him bluntly, and although Peter knew he meant well, it didn’t really help.

 

Tony was _gone_. 

 

Vision had tried tracking his phone and his portable tablet, but his devices were all offline. He was completely void- he was off the grid- and Peter had no idea what to do.

 

His eyes began to well.

 

“If I had the suit- we’d be able to find him,” he said, and he pressed his palms into his forehead. “It had a tracker that directly located an implant in Mr Stark. I could have found him anywhere if he’d simply turn it on-,”

 

Peter stopped. 

 

If Tony was truly missing, truly gone, then he would have _probably_ turned it on. 

 

Probably.

 

“Where’s the _suit_ -?” Peter jumped up from the couch and Vision followed behind him at a fast walk. It was like a skit from a sitcom; wherever Peter walked, Vision followed, his words echoing throughout the compound- 

 

“Mr Parker, I really think you should calm down.”

 

_“This isn’t about me,”_ Peter boomed, just as Vision bombarded straight into his chest. “This is about Tony. And I can track him if I have the suit.” Peter stated at Vision’s frustrated face, his eyes wide and his mind trying desperately to telepathically beg. 

 

Vision looked at Peter, his eyes just as full of fear as the kid’s, his hands shaking slightly despite the fact he was an AI body.

 

No- he was more than an AI. He was made from JARVIS, Tony’s greatest creation. And now Tony needed his help.

 

Vision sighed, bringing his arms up and crossing them over his chest. And with another look at Peter’s distraught but truthful face-

 

He caved.

 

Vision opened the door to Stark’s suit lab, and Peter stepped inside haphazardly. He was inside Tony Stark’s workshop- _the_ Tony Stark. 

 

“The suit is in that paper bag,” Vision pointed at the metal desk to the left corner of the room, but Peter didn’t move just yet. Vision sensed his insecurities and made himself scarce. 

 

Peter strolled up the desk, his eyes taking in as much of the lab as he could. The walls were lined with suits, all different colours, some finished, some gathering dust, some half completed. Tony’s desk was littered with blueprints; a lot of them were scribbled on. The paper bag sat, lonely, atop some discarded suit prints, right next to a small black flip phone that Peter had never seen Tony hold, let alone use.

 

His hand grasped over the top of the paper bag; it scrunched up in his grip; and something inside of him was almost afraid to open the bag, to don the suit again after so long off the grid, to put it on for the last time- because this wasn’t permanent, this wasn’t- this was for Tony. 

 

Peter was about to open the bag, but was shoved out of his own head by the violent vibrating on the metal desk- 

 

The flip phone was ringing. 

 

And the caller ID read “Mom”.

 

Peter almost choked. Mom? What? His curiosity got the better of him, and within ten seconds the phone was in his grip; he flipped it up-

 

“Hello?” He stuttered out.

 

“Tony? Is that you?” A gruff voice sounded from down the line, and Peter swallowed. He knew that voice.

 

“Tony isn’t here-,” 

 

“What?” Steve was the one to stutter now, and Peter could tell he was going to hang up the phone. 

 

“It’s Spider-Man- don’t hang up, Captai- um- Mr Rogers. _Please_ don’t hang up.” 

 

Steve waited patiently, his breaths falling down the phone were slightly accelerated. This could be bad for him- if Peter got out he knew Captain America’s phone number, then everything could blow up again. 

 

“You’re from Queens, right?” Steve asked, and Peter immediately felt at ease.

 

“And you’re from Brooklyn.” 

 

This was Steve’s way of making sure it was actually Spider-Man, a test of sorts. 

 

“Where’s Tony?” Steve’s voice was suddenly all too serious.

 

Peter swallowed. 

 

“He’s missing. We don’t know where.”

 

“You know he was going to see you, right? That’s what he told me yesterday.”

 

Peter sat down on Tony’s desk chair, the bag facing him. 

 

“Mr Stark talked to you- _about me_?”

 

“Kid,” Steve sighed. “You’re the whole reason he contacted me again.” Peter slumped further into the desk chair, his mind wandering. It was true; Tony _cared_. He cared enough to want to go and apologise to Peter- _twice_ ; he cared enough to call Steve _fucking_ Rogers after all that had happened. “But- that’s for later- where the hell is he? I’m guessing you guys don’t have a clue,” 

 

“You’ve got that right,” Peter whispered, and his eyes flicked over to the paper bag. “But I _will_ find him.”

 

Steve was silent for a few seconds, as if he were revelling in the fact he’d been right about both Peter and Tony. 

 

“I don’t doubt that for one second, kid,” Peter gulped at Steve calling him kid. It was obvious Tony and him had talked a lot about him- even Steve had adopted Stark’s nickname for him. “What’s your plan?” 

 

Peter leaned in his elbows, his face inches away from the paper bag, the phone still plastered to his ear. 

 

“Well it’s- _kind_ of a plan.” 

 

Steve didn’t scoff. Peter could almost imagine his tough jaw, his tense stance, his face peering at whatever was in front of him like he were trying to visualise where Tony was. 

 

“Don’t get yourself killed saving him,” Steve spoke up. Peter’s jaw clenched. “It would ruin him.” 

 

Steve hung up the phone suddenly, and Peter practically threw it on the table as he grabbed the paper bag and opened it. He slipped out the suit and the bag fell to the floor dully. 

 

His suit. _His suit_ , in his possession again.

 

He made a mental note not to get reattached, to act like it meant nothing having the suit again. Because it wasn’t his, really. It hadn’t been his for months. 

 

But the fabric felt like coming home, and when he slipped it on and clicked the compression button his body felt like it was normal again. His mind was in the right place, his muscles ached with the need to move, the need to fly across Fifth Avenue and wave to people on the Brooklyn Bridge or in the middle of Queens Boulevard.

 

He _was_ Spider-Man.

 

And he was going to get Tony back.


	12. Chapter 12

It didn’t take long for Peter to be back in his old headspace, and as he clicked the locate tracking system on his suit he was practically praying that Tony had turned it on.

 

He had. 

 

In fact, the system said it had been on since Tony had given the kid the suit. Tony had been within reach this whole time, as had Peter throughout all of Tony’s other missions. The kid and him were always connected. Peter slipped on his mask, and booted up all the other systems. 

 

“Welcome back, Peter,” Karen’s voice pelted into his ears, and he found himself almost crying at his personal AI’s voice once more. 

 

“It’s good to be back, Karen,” He smiled to himself.

 

“So,” Karen began, as Peter fiddled with his web shooters. “Did you tell Liz how you feel?” 

 

Peter laughed awkwardly. 

 

“We’ve got a lot to catch up on,” He finished calibrating the shooters. “But first, we need to get to Mr Stark.”

 

“Locating him right now,” 

 

Peter watched through his inside screen as Karen searched and located Tony. He’d missed this, the thrill of the chase, the knowledge that while he donned the suit he’d be able to help someone, save someone. 

 

“He’s in a warehouse in Manhattan, the tracker is locating three others in the vicinity around him.”

 

Peter shook out his limbs and psyched himself up.

 

“Plot a route to him, Karen. We’re getting him back today.” 

 

-

 

Tony tried to keep his composure, even while a Chitauri death weapon was pointed right at his skull. Mrs Spencer’s blank face pierced into his, but neither looked away, neither gave up this small fight. 

 

Tony sighed.

 

“Charles’ death has haunted me since you came to see me,” Tony began, and Mrs Spencer gestured for the guards to back up. The weapon was still only a metre away from Tony, though. “When the accords came to light, I told the others about him; the other Avengers.”

 

“And then Mr Rogers raged a war,” Tony bit his lip and struggled to get into a comfier position. Eventually, he managed to sit up with crossed legs, his hands still chained to the ground in front fo him. Mrs Spencer perched on a small black stool. 

 

“It wasn’t just him, it was us all. Steve had his reasons, and I realise that now,” Tony waited for a beat, afraid that what he was going to say next would make Mrs Spencer fire the weapon herself. “My family were killed without justice, by a man that Steve defends to the ends of the Earth,” Mrs Spencer shuffled on the stool, her face still steely. 

 

“Betrayal. It hurts,” She added, and stood up from the stool, her mouth nothing more than a line across her face. “This doesn’t change what you did, Stark. This doesn’t change anything,” In one swoop, she’d kicked Tony round his jaw. His head crashed to the floor with a thump.

 

And then the three of them were gone. 

 

Tony was alone once more. 

 

-

 

Peter felt his body as it flew through the air, cascading above the high rise buildings of central New York City, over Fifth Avenue, all the way to the Manhattan bridge. 

 

The warehouse was located just off of Atlantic Avenue, and Peter dropped himself down on the warehouse roof. 

 

It was getting dark out; pretty soon no one would be able to see him swinging around. Passers by had spotted him in the centre of the city, though; a few had cheered; a few had waved; a few simply stared in awe. 

 

“Karen, where in the building is Tony?” Peter reloaded his webs.

 

“He’s located in the left corner, behind two large storage boxes. The other three are located to the right of the main entrance.” 

 

“Perfect,” Peter muttered. “Because we’re not going through the main entrance,” his eyes were staring intently at the back door just below him.

 

It was utterly unguarded, and on the other side of the building to the three abductors. Peter slipped down the side of the building and landed with nothing but a small thud.

 

His hand gripped around the door handle and the door slowly creaked open, revealing the dark, open space of the warehouse. 

 

It was full of storage boxes, set up in an almost maze like way. It was as if it was designed to make anyone who entered confused about which way to go. 

 

“Interesting...” Peter whispered to himself, sliding the back door shut once more and clicking it closed, excruciatingly slowly. 

 

Peter made his way to the left corner; Tony’s tracker was glowing on his screen. He jumped up onto one of the storage boxes and jumped from one to the other, all the way to Tony’s corner.

 

That’s when he dropped down.

 

Tony sat cross legged on the floor, his face bruised and the blood only just beginning to coagulate on his temple. He still wore his summon bands, and Peter wondered why the hell he hadn’t summoned his suit.

 

Maybe there was interference of some kind.

 

“Mr Stark?” Peter whispered, and Tony’s head shot up, his eyes peering into the kid’s fiercely. 

 

“Kid- Peter- you’re-,” Stark spoke, and Peter plastered his hand over Tony’s mouth immediately, giving him a small shush. 

 

“They’re still in the building,” Tony eyes widened, and suddenly his head began shaking. 

 

“No- no, you can’t- no,” He muttered through Peter’s fingers. “You can’t be here-,”

 

“What? Mr Stark- it’s OK-,”

 

“ _No it’s not_ ,” 

 

Peter removed his hand as Tony’s eyes pierced into his. He was scared, terrified- his breathing was erratic- and it made Peter worry even more.

 

“They have _weapons_ \- the ones that you found out about- the _alien_ ones,”

 

“Shit,” Peter whispered, and that’s when his hands clasped around the chains on the floor, desperately trying to pick the lock that kept Tony grounded. His limbs were moving uncontrollably, and Tony kept telling him to get out, to leave him, to get the authorities- 

 

But Peter ignored every word. 

 

His heart was racing, and he couldn’t feel his body. The increasingly feeling that someone was watching the two of them had infiltrated both Peter’s and Tony’s heads, but it was too late to back out now.

 

This was Tony Stark. 

 

And Peter wouldn’t abandon him.

 

“This is almost sentimental,” an ominous voice echoed throughout the warehouse, and Peter stopped. Tony froze. “The student saves the mentor, it’s almost biblical,” a thud sounded from the top of one of the storage boxes behind Peter.

 

And then feet were plastered on the floor only two metres away.

 

Peter stumbled back, huddling next to Tony. 

 

“I haven’t seen you since you destroyed that ferry,” Toomes tutted. “That wasn’t very wise,” 

 

The Vulture strolled closer to the both of them, his hand clutching one of the Chitauri weapons his team produced. It made Peter sick to his stomach.

 

“Well, you know what else is biblical?” Toomes snarled. 

 

How much Peter wanted to punch him, shove him to the ground, watch him pay for the illegal business he created- how much he wanted to be able to do that- 

 

But he was frozen in place. 

 

“Student and mentor _dying together_. That’s one hell of a show.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I so bad at finishing things? It seems I just have more enjoyment in giving you all excruciating cliff hangers. Sorry.
> 
> Not really. 
> 
> Hahahahaha.
> 
> Enjoy x


	13. Chapter 13

This wasn’t like before. This wasn’t like being dropped into a lake from 1000 feet and being immediately saved, this wasn’t like talking afterwards and having Tony disregard Peter’s findings. 

 

This was everything being proven to be true. This was being in mortal danger, face to face with a fatal weapon with no loophole, no way out.

 

Apart from fighting.

 

“She hired you,” Tony croaked. “Mrs Spencer,” 

 

Toomes smiled.

 

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Mr Stark. Everyone here wants revenge for what the Avengers have done.” 

 

“You killed my son,” Mrs Spencer stood, arms crossed, behind Toomes. 

 

“And you sold me out of every penny I’d spent years collecting.” 

 

Tony frowned at the floor, the guilt etched all over his face.

 

“Y’know, for the years I’ve been doing this I never actually wanted to get on your radar,” he strolled around menacingly, his Vulture wings rattling. “Until Mrs Spencer came to me, looking for something to erase you from this planet,” Peter stood up slowly, one of the guards threatening him continually with one of Toomes weapons. 

 

But he didn’t falter.

 

“She told me her story. And everything I thought I wanted flew out of the window. The Avengers deserve to be broken. They deserve a taste of their own fucking medicine.” 

 

Peter scoffed through his mask, and Tony turned to the kid as if to say ‘shut up’. 

 

But he didn’t. 

 

“You can have fun with this little revenge plot. Go ahead with killing one of the only people in this world who actually wants peace-,”

 

“Kid-,”

 

Toomes punched Tony squarely round his jaw. “Let the- _kid_ \- talk. Have some manners.” 

 

“You think what you’re doing will give you some sort of relief, don’t you?” He was looking at Mrs Spencer. 

 

She was taken aback. 

 

“This isn’t revenge. This is _justice_ -,”

 

“They’re the same thing if you do it by killing, by _murdering_.” 

 

“I suggest you back up, _kid_. ‘Cause who’s the one holding the gun in this scenario?” Toomes snarled once more, as he held up his own weapon. Peter held his hands up and nodded a few times.

 

“OK, OK, noted,” 

 

_Not noted._

 

All Tony heard were his web shooters going off, and that’s when he scrambled up, the chains falling to the floor with a clatter; 

 

Peter had managed to undo them about two minutes before.

 

He pressed his summon bands again and prayed so hard that he thought he’d convert into a nun after this was over, prayed that he’d hear the familiar whirring of his suit thrusters on their way to him from the compound. 

 

Toomes closed his mask and his wings creaked. He flew up onto one of the storage boxes suddenly, just as Peter swung up onto one of the tall warehouse beams. 

 

Mrs Spencer stepped back into the shadows, her two guardsmen following her every move. 

 

It was Peter against Toomes once more, just like on the ferry. 

 

But this was different;

 

This was a battle for Tony’s life. 

 

His Iron Man suit was nowhere to be seen, so Peter lunged at the Vulture with everything he had. He webbed him up, wrapping the strands around his wings while avoiding the blasts from his Chitauri invention. The warehouse was being destroyed, and Tony was still on the floor, thrust against the wall of a storage box, his eyes clamped shut and his brain firing responsible adult phrases at Peter as he fought, just like he used to. 

 

“Always watch your back,”

 

“Never get cocky,”

 

“Keep your eyes open at all times,”

 

Peter would scoff, fiddling with his web shooters. “OK, Mr Stark. I think I’m good,”

 

He’d take off then, and swing from building to building, off to look after his neighbourhood. Off to be the person he’d always been, even before he had the suit, even after it was taken away from him.

 

And even now; as he wore it again for what Peter thought was the last time;

 

_He would always be Spider-Man._

 

Tony’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes opened wide. The sound of thrusters was getting closer; Tony’s suit was here. Toomes destroying the warehouse seemed to finally get the summon signal out in the open. 

 

“Yes! _Come on_ , baby!” Tony yelled, his suit now in view. 

 

“Thanks, Mr Stark!” Peter grinned cheekily at Tony. God, this kid was something. 

 

Tony pulled himself up uncomfortably onto one of the storage boxes, shoving off his jacket and chucking it to the floor. His suit was in the building now, and both Toomes and Peter seemed slow down their fight as Tony got a run up, his body sprinting full throttle to the end of the storage box and jumping off—

 

Jumping straight into his suit.

 

Just as Toomes fired straight at the kid, straight at his chest— 

 

Peter didn’t call out when he got hit, he didn’t so much as make a small mumble when his body hit the floor with a thud. Tony immediately called Vision and Natasha, not stopping to say anything. They’d know he needed help. 

 

His thruster caught one of Toomes’ wings, sending a jolt of electricity down through the rest of the mechanism. Toomes collapsed to the floor, his body convulsing painfully. But the most disturbing thing;

 

He was grinning. He was grinning like he’d just killed someone he truly hated. 

 

Tony rushed to the kid, pulling off his mask and revealing his same old blotchy face. His cheeks were bruised, there was a cut on his brow;

 

His eyes were closed. 

 

“Heartbeat detected. It’s weak, Tony,”

 

“Call an ambulance, FRIDAY.”

 

“One is already on its way-,”

 

Tony shut off FRIDAY’s system and scraped his mask off his own face, placing it unintentionally next to the kids. His suit was breached, a Chitauri sized burn having got through. His chest was raw and red, his body was moving involuntarily as the adrenaline still coursed through his limbs. 

 

This was all too familiar. This was all too real.

 

Suddenly, Tony was lying on the floor below Steve, his face oozing blood. He was pulling Bucky’s arm from his socket. His arc reactor was being destroyed by one of his best friends. 

 

This was _on him_. Only him. 

 

Tony had made the kid cry and his whole world had collapsed; 

 

Now the kid was lying half dead on the floor— 

 

And his world was imploding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucky number 13! Sorry about this-
> 
> But honestly, thank you all so much for the continued support. This is my most popular work on here, and I've managed to get somewhere I never thought I'd be! Publishing my words has always been a scary scenario, but thanks to you all I get excited to post. With over 400 kudos and 10k hits this is my most popular piece EVER and I'm astounded it's got this far. 
> 
> Thank you, really. 
> 
> Enjoy x


	14. Chapter 14

“May-,”

 

“Shut your mouth, Tony,” May muttered menacingly, her hand gripped around the handle to the ICU in the hospital. “I thought he’d lost the internship, and now you’re telling me that he got hurt helping out with one of your builds? It’s _ridiculous_ -,” 

 

Her breathing was erratic, her face was bright red, and her eyes were terrified. Terrified for her nephew’s life. 

 

“You’re hiding something,” she added, and Tony’s heart stopped beating. “And I _will_ find out.”

 

She opened up the door and slammed it in Tony’s face, leaving him out in the empty, dark corridor.

 

Tony slumped on one of the slippery, polished wood chairs, his head in his hands. How could he have been so stupid as to keep the kid with him? He should have forced him to leave after he arrived at the warehouse- he should have _acted rationally._

 

But he hadn’t. He’d kept him around. He’d _wanted_ him around-

 

And that cost the kid _everything._

 

“Peter-,” Tony watched as a young girl ran through the corridor, her hair tied in a messy ponytail, her face red and sweating. “Room 216-,” 

 

“He’s in there,” Tony spoke up, gesturing to the entrance to the ICU. “But they’re only letting in family.” 

 

MJ allowed her breathing to slow down, her eyes seeming to give up slightly. She slumped down two seats away from Tony, her leg bobbing up and down with anxious adrenaline. 

 

“You’re Tony Stark, aren’t you,” MJ said, but it was a rhetorical question. She knew it was him. 

 

“Yeah,” Tony thought about holding out his hand in greeting, but it didn’t feel right. “You the girlfriend?” 

 

MJ’s face exploded in blush. 

 

“No, no- just- a friend.” Her face was red hot and throbbing. She patted her cheeks subtly to try and calm herself down. Tony watched as she tried to hide herself from him, but he couldn’t help but smile. 

 

“Ah- _I see_ ,” he turned towards her, a subdued smile etched on his face. She scoffed back at him, and the two of them sat in comfortable silence.

 

They had one thing in common-

 

They both _loved_ Peter, and they both wanted him to be safe.

 

Tony couldn’t count how many hours it had been, but his legs were numb from sitting down for so long, and his eyes stung from the harsh hospital lights. 

 

MJ was laid down on three of the waiting seats, her body moving rhythmically in uncomfortable sleep, her eyes flickering restlessly under their lids. 

 

Tony hated hospitals. 

 

Their smell, the way they looked so _sterile_ , the feeling he got when he stepped inside of one- his stomach would drop into his large intestine, and his heart felt like it would drop out of his body. 

 

But the number one thing he hated-

 

The ICU visitation rules. 

 

It was insane that only family members were allowed inside, especially in a circumstance like this. Not being able to see the kid, to see Peter, was eating him alive. 

 

“Screw it,” he muttered, and got up from his seat. The chairs shifted and Michelle shot up, her eyes scanning tiredly over the billionaire as he started hacking into the ICU door. 

 

“What are you doing?” She croaked, rubbing her eyes. 

 

“Going to see Peter,” he stopped, and turned back to her. “Wanna come?” 

 

-

 

It was quiet inside, the nurses were attending to their patients, the coffee machine was out of beans; Tony and MJ tiptoed around the unit like they were in a _Pink Panther_ movie. 

 

“Room 216,” MJ whispered, and the two of them tiptoed round the corner- and there it was.

 

Room 216. Patient: Parker, Peter. Age: 15. 

 

Tony stuck his head round the frame and scanned the room;

 

May was slumped in a chair next to the bed, her hand clutching her nephew’s so tightly it looked like it might fall off. She was fast asleep, and Tony gestured for MJ to stay quiet as the two of them crept inside. 

 

But May woke immediately. She breathed in deeply, sucking in a sharp breath, but as her eyes registered the two people in front of her, she shot up. 

 

“You _can’t be here_ -,” 

 

“May, _please_.” Tony pleaded, and MJ merely stared with tired eyes at Peter’s aunt. She hadn’t looked at Peter yet- not even for a second. “I did this. _It’s my fault_. I just want to _be here for him_ ,” 

 

May’s face buckled. 

 

“ _Please_ -,”

 

“OK, _OK_ ,” she yawned, stretching her limbs. “I need a shower, and some new clothes. _Please_ \- just-,” she looked to her nephew as he laid still, his head partially wrapped in gauze, his hair ruffled and full of dirt. Her eyes welled. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.” 

 

May left his room quickly, as if she was afraid that if she didn’t leave then, she’d never want to leave that bumpy excuse for a chair that sat next to Peter.

 

MJ immediately sat in the chair, her eyes finally looking at him. Her thoughts were in disarray- was this actually _real?_

 

Was Peter Parker actually lying in a hospital bed, half conscious, with a burn all the way through his chest? 

 

“ _Oh my god_ -,” she couldn’t help but stutter out. Her hands found his, and Tony watched as her tears overflowed as fast as they welled into her eyes. He watched as they fell on their hands as they sat, entwined, together. 

 

He’d done this.

 

It was all him.

 

For a moment, he wondered why the hell he was here. Why the hell _was_ he here? After all he’d put the kid through- after everything that had gone down in the last few months. 

 

Peter was lying in a bed that was meant for Tony- and he couldn’t do anything about it but watch, helplessly. 

 

His feet were already moving to get out of his room, when the kid stirred.

 

“Tony,” He croaked out, his throat sounding so sore and dry it was a miracle he could even speak at all. Tony shot round, rushing back to the bed immediately and getting down on his knees.

 

“Hey- kid. Peter. How are you? Are you OK? Are you-,” 

 

“I’m _fine_ \- I’m alright.” Tony’s hand clasped over his mouth, his face turning red. Red with guilt. Red with sadness. Red with _rage_ at what he’d caused. 

 

He couldn’t help it when his other hand found Peter’s free hand. He wrapped his fingers around the kid’s so tightly that Peter almost winced, but he didn’t let go.

 

“MJ,” Peter’s eyes scanned over hers, his mouth curling upwards in a small, cheeky smile. 

 

“Hey, champ.” MJ chuckled through spouts of tears. “Thought we promised you’d try _not_ to get killed?” The two of them chuckled innocently, and Tony’s chest cracked in half.

 

MJ noticed his discomfort, his _need_ to speak to Peter alone. 

 

She smiled once more, kissing Peter once on his forehead, before getting up and leaving the room, claiming she needed a coffee. 

 

She clicked the door shut- 

 

And they were alone. 

 

He placed himself in the bumpy chair and tried not to look sad or full of pity, but Peter saw right through his sad excuse of an expression. 

 

“It’s not your fault-,”

 

“Yeah it is, Peter. This right here is all _my_ doing.” 

 

“Last I checked, you’re not Adrian Toomes.” Tony’s mouth dropped into a lopsided frown.

 

The two of them needed to talk. And this was as good a time as any. Tony sucked in a breath.

 

“Kid- I’m gonna mumble for a bit now, and it’s probably best if you just listen, ‘cause we could end up being here for three years if not,” Peter scoffed, but he nodded. “I don’t say you’re ‘my responsibility’ because I don’t think you’re capable- I say it because _I got you into this mess_. _I_ made the suit; _I_ gave it to you; _I_ put you out there in the world for more people to see.

 

“I made you into a bigger target than you needed to be. I took the suit away after the ferry incident because-,” Tony faltered, biting his lip. “ _Because_ -,”

 

“Because I was being targeted.” 

 

Tony nodded, despite telling the kid not the interrupt. He was right, after all. 

 

“Because you were being targeted. You have every right to be mad- _god_ I would be. But- _that doesn’t_ mean your jammies don’t miss you. _That doesn’t_ mean you can’t take them out for a spin. _It doesn’t_ mean-,” Tony stopped, because he could feel his eyes welling up and his throat closing. He breathed deeply again as Peter waited patiently, his eyes constantly tracing his mentor’s face. 

 

“ _It doesn’t_ mean you’re not _Spider-Man_ \- because _you are_. You’re the only person that _could_ be Spider-Man, you’re the only person that _is_ him. And in that warehouse, against those guys,

 

“You’re the _only_ person I wanted to fight side by side with.” 

 

Peter laid his head back comfortably on his pillow, his mind taking in each word of Stark’s lecture. 

 

Except it wasn’t a lecture- it was a broken man telling him why he felt broken. It was a strong man telling him why he was also fragile. 

 

It was the bravest thing Peter had ever seen Tony do;

 

Talk about his emotions.

 

Tony sniffed, swiping away the traces of tears around his eyes. 

 

“I’m giving you the suit back, by the way.” 

 

Peter’s head shot up.

 

“ _What?_ But you just-,”

 

“Yeah, I said you could still take the jammies for a spin. Doesn’t mean you should, I mean that outfit is _not_ designer at all. Gucci would throw up in its mouth. Prada would _jump off a cliff_.”

 

Peter smiled, his eyes widened, and his face gained so much colour Tony was afraid he’d burst into flames. 

 

“Besides- you earned it, kid.”

 

Tony got up then, stuffing his hands in his pockets and strolling to the door. MJ barged in carrying three coffees in her hands, her hair even more askew than when she left. 

 

She popped the cups down on the side table. “You leaving, Mr Stark?” Tony nodded.

 

“Yeah, I have a few people waiting for me back at the compound who are ready to hear the whole story.” 

 

“Whole story?” MJ asked, and Peter grabbed her hand.

 

“It’s a _long_ story.” 

 

She sat down in the bumpy chair, still staring at Tony. Then her eyes passed over Peter’s. 

 

“Good thing I have no plans.” 

 

Peter looked at Tony in a way that said “She knows.” And that was his cue to leave for real.

 

He grabbed the door handle-

 

“Tony, wait.” Peter began. “I just wanna say that- without you, I _wouldn’t_ be this version of myself. I _wouldn’t_ be this version of Spider-Man. I-,” he stopped, and gulped. “I _care_ about-,”

 

“ _I know,_ kid.”

 

Tony swung the door open. 

 

“And I don’t wanna lose you, either.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seeing Black Panther tomorrow and I just remembered that means I have to sit through the Infinity War trailer on the BIG SCREEN.
> 
> BITCH I'm going to be crying before the fucking movie even starts! AHHH
> 
> Anyway, pretty sure this baby is almost done and dusted, one last chapter after this one...
> 
> Enjoy x


	15. Chapter 15

“So, they’re pretty mad at you, huh?” 

 

“Vision and Nat? Well,” Tony paused, and smiled at himself. “ _Yeah_.” 

 

“A fifteen year old kid fought for them; I’m sure they’re just angry because you didn’t tell them.” 

 

“No, no— they’re mad because I brought a _toddler_ onto the battle field.” 

 

“Well then,” Steve sighed. “Nobody’s perfect.” 

 

Tony could sense Steve’s grin, and it gave him a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time; it reminded him of after Sokovia, when everyone went their separate ways again.

 

He wracked his mind to find something other than what he wanted to talk to Steve about, something that wouldn’t simply cause _more_ conflict; something that wouldn’t ruin all that they’d managed to build between themselves again. 

 

But he couldn’t— 

 

“You’re planning something, aren’t you, Cap.” It wasn’t a question. It was the truth. Tony knew it. So did Steve.

 

“Can feel it through the phone, can you?” 

 

“Yeah,” Tony replied quickly. “I can.” 

 

Steve sighed. Both of them knew something was coming. It was too difficult to simply _sit there_ and pretend nothing was happening.

 

“We both know something’s coming. Something that has the potential for—,”

 

“Catastrophe, in the words of Vision.” 

 

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled to himself. “ _Catastrophe_.” He paused, and Tony hoped he’d say something to ease the anxiety that was slowly creeping around his limbs. “But right now, at this moment, we’re all _safe_ —

 

“ _And that’s all I care about_.” 

 

“What happens when it all goes to shit again, then?” Steve properly laughed now.

 

“I think you already know, but you’re just waiting for me to say it.” 

 

“ _Say it, then_.” 

 

Tony’s blood was boiling. Sure, the government really hated the Avengers right now. They hated _Cap_ even more. But if what was coming was really _that_ bad, really _that_ disastrous; 

 

The law would have to be overlooked. 

 

“They’re all still in the Raft,” Steve began, thinking wisely about his words. “It’s about time they saw some sunlight.” 

 

And all Tony could do was smile, because he knew what Steve was saying.

 

He knew that it _needed_ to happen, too, so that disasters like the warehouse with Peter didn’t happen again. So that he never had to see the kid lying in a hospital bed, half conscious, ever again.

 

So that the world would be _properly_ protected once more— against the beast that was inevitably going to set up camp on Earth.

 

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was shaking, Tony could sense the uneasiness in the Captain. 

 

“Yeah?” Tony clutched the flip phone to his face so tightly he could _feel_ it indenting into his cheek. 

 

His knuckles were white.

 

“I’m going to break them out,” 

 

“I know.” 

 

And in that moment the two prior teammates understood each other so closely and intimately it was like they were in the same room.

 

Tony could read Steve’s mind— Steve could read his back.

 

“I’m going to break them out— and when I do, we’re going to fight this thing _together_.”

 

“ _I know_.” 

 

“We’re going to fight this thing together—“

 

Steve repeated, his voice nothing more than a coarse whisper.

 

Tony held his breath.

 

“ _And then we’ll all get to come home._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's the end of the line. And yes, it's short, but I sort of wanted it to be that way as a way of showing you there's so much more for me and others to write about. But I also wanted to make it somewhat believable about what I think may or may not happen. Though come on, Tony putting Steve's contact name as 'Mom' is a bit far fetched...
> 
> I think this is one of the best things I've ever written, to be honest. And the response I've got hasn't simply made me happy, it's inspired me to continue with things that in the past I probably wouldn't have kept pursuing. 
> 
> Thank you to my 'sort-of-beta' Josie, and to everyone who's continuously come back to this depressed representation of my feelings towards Infinity War approaching and the franchise changing. 
> 
> These characters mean so much to me, and I used to hide the fact I loved them which was so entirely stupid, because I didn't get to share my writing with all of you, and I wouldn't get to read things in return. I'm glad I'm confident enough to actually talk about my 'nerdy' passions now, because it's really fun and makes me happy. 
> 
> Thank you for the kudos, comments and hits as always-
> 
> And until the next time I start writing something on a whim;
> 
> Enjoy x


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